A Night of Worry
by miladyRanger
Summary: While on the journey to destroy the Ring, Aragorn faces his fears... of destiny, and other things.
1. After Caradhras

Hello, and welcome to my evil lair… *jumps* Of course not! It's just a short little fic, designed to see a part of the Fellowship's journey through a different set of eyes, for once. It was written frantically at 2am when the idea popped into my head, so be nice. By the way, they're not mine, *darn!* even if I think about them night and day... Enough of my ranting, on to the story!

**A Night of Worry **

A chill breeze blew through the trees surrounding the campsite. Gandalf looked up contemplatively, hearing a soft, haunting melody carried on the wind. It sounded familiar, yet he could not place it.

He turned his gaze on his sleeping companions. The Hobbits were in a pile, with Frodo a little apart. Gimli had claimed a large rock for a pillow, while Boromir had decided to make use of his spare cloak. Legolas had disappeared into a nearby beech after completing the last watch.

The haunting melody came back again, this time with soft footsteps.

"Aragorn?"

The footsteps stopped, the music slowly dying out. A small rustle came from behind the Istari as the Ranger came through the foliage and seated himself beside his friend. "Hello, Gandalf."

"What were you singing, my friend?"

"Do you know of the Lay of Leithian?"

"Ahh, yes. 'Tis a sad tale."

"Aye."

The old Wizard watched the Man carefully after his sigh, noting the slump in normally proud shoulders, the shadows over the silver eyes and the lines cutting deep into his forehead. "What is amiss, my friend?"

Another sigh, this time more audible and less felt. "I… am not quite sure." He looked up, meeting Gandalf's eyes. "Many things, really. I feel… out of place here, though I do not fully understand why. I know that both mine and Frodo's fates are bound to the One Ring, but why I must travel with it is… unclear… to me. I am unused to travelling in a group this large, and it causes me to be uneasy. I am constantly on watch, whether officially or no. I am still weary from my last journeys, Gandalf. I was not yet ready to set out on this quest ere we departed, and it has done nothing to ally my fears, only intensified them.

"I fear that the Evenstar will sail, and I fear what Lord Elrond will do should she stay. I fear also for the scattered remnants of my people of the North and what will become of them while I undertake yet another great journey abroad. I fear for the Hobbits, when they will lose their innocence and find that the world is not so bright as they believe it to be.

"Frodo I worry over, especially. You know that his wound has not healed, Gandalf, and I suspect that it will never do so, that he will always be marred by its malice. My heart would take this burden from him, if it could, for it brings great pain to him, yet I know I cannot. I fear he will not last the journey, even if we should break into Mordor and reach the very mountain itself." He paused for a moment.

"You have much weighing on you, Aragorn."

"The whole of Arda depends on my fate – and Frodo's." The Man looked back to his hands, folded in his lap.

"Yet that is not all."

"No." A long silence, then: "Gandalf, you know that I do not like the path we are treading, and you know well why. I have told you this before, but I will say it again – do not go into the Mines of Moria! I have seen what lurks there, and I know that there are things hidden there that should remain so. But that is not all I have Seen." A haunted look came into his eyes. "I have foreseen your fall, should you lead us through Moria. And putting aside my own grief and despair at the knowledge, I do not know if I can lead the Company to safety, should what I have Seen come to pass." His voice grew ever softer as he spoke, and it was now a mere shadow of a whisper on the breeze. "I do not know that I would be able to go on, if you fall, my friend. Let alone to lead others in your stead. Elf I may not be, but fade I still may. For you have ever been a friend, and even a father, to me. You have brought tidings of hope when all else had despaired, and kept my faith alive long enough to prevail over many a foe.

"Ai, Mithrandir! Why must you take this path? There are other ways we might take. Moria is not the only way to cross the mountains!"

"But it is the safest. The pass of Caradhras is already snowed in, Aragorn. The Gap of Rohan is too far south, and too open to be crossed in stealth. It is much too close to Isenguard, especially with Saruman's treachery against the Council."

Aragorn shook his head in denial.

"You know this to be true, whether you want to admit it or not. Moria is the only path open to us."

"It cannot be. Middle-earth cannot afford to lose you, Mithrandir!" A plaintive note came into the Man's voice. "_I_ cannot afford to lose you. I have already been the cause of too many deaths. I do not need yours on my heart, as well."

"Aragorn." Gandalf clasped the Ranger's hand. "Aragorn, look at me." He forced the Man's head up, caught and held his gaze. "Aragorn, you will not cause my death. You cannot blame yourself for things which are out of your control. This is one of them. Should I fall, then I will do so for a reason, and not because of a mistake on your part. You have told me your fears, my friend, but you have forgotten one. You fear that you will never take the kingship, and you fear that you will find yourself trapped in it should you regain your place." A small smile touched Gandalf's lips. "Yes, I know of this one. You fear that you will be trapped, and also that all your friends will leave you, in one way or another. It takes much time and effort to gain your trust, you know, you stubborn Ranger! And it takes very little time for someone to die. That is what you fear most, I think. And it is why you agonize over this.

"Yes, Aragorn, I know my death will come sooner rather than later, but it is not just yet. And should my time come, you need to let go of whatever guilt you feel and concentrate on what you are doing. Regardless of my death, Frodo needs to get the Ring to Mount Doom. Promise me that whatever happens, you will see this through."

Tracks of tears trailed down the Ranger's face, and his eyes glinted in the starlight. "I promise, Gandalf. I will get the Ringbearer to Mount Doom, should you fall."

***TBC... but only if you review!

Read and review, please! Feedback is always an amazing motivation to post more chapters, you know! *hint, hint* I'll give you lots and lots of things to contemplate, I promise… but only if you review! It's not hard, and it'll only take a minute or two. Honest, you don't have to be a member of the site to tell an author what you think. You don't even have to leave your name: I'll be just as happy with an "anonymous" reviewer as with a named one. Truly, it's the fact that people read it that keeps the authors going…


	2. In Lothlórien

**Hello again, and welcome back… *rubs hands together and laughs evilly* I've been waiting for you… Hah! Well, I've returned, since I had two kindly reviewers. *glares at everyone else* For those of you who didn't review… and I know you're out there so don't deny it… please do so for this one. It's hard to come up with good material if it's not inspired by the people who read…**

**harrylover101 and RE-Zero: Thank you! I really needed those. Hope this is soon enough for you! **

**And now on to the next installment! Another point of view, farther down the road. Also drastically more AU – I've fudged the times of certain events to make this work better. And no, I still don't own them – the characters, background, or the quotes I stol- err, borrowed, yes, that's the word, borrowed- from The Fellowship of the Ring. Drat! Maybe someday… **

**In Lothlórien**

Haldir had taken the Hobbits to Cerin Amroth, overlooking Caras Galadhron, leaving Legolas, Boromir, Gimli and I in the camp. I left them a short while ago, needing time.

Gandalf's death lies heavy on my heart, and a shadow darkens every step I take. The loss of Mithrandir is hard news for all of Arda, but even more so for me. He was my guide, my _friend_, more than all else. He will be sorely missed.

And not just by myself. The Galadhrim are singing of him, in memory. The songs cause me to want to rip my heart out. I cannot bear this grief! "You do not help my grief!" I want to say to the Elves, but I am in far too much emotional pain to tell them so. I could not be so heartless. They are grieving, too, in their own way.

I wander among the Mallorn trees, their golden leaves, even in winter, soothing my fears and worries, but not my grief.

My feet stop of their own volition, and I find myself partway up the hill of Cerin Amroth, a small golden bloom of _elanor_ in my hand. Why have I stopped here?

I can hear a voice, in my head. "Who is there?" she asks me.

_Arwen._ She is a star against the night sky, a light in my darkness. She is fairer to me than all other things, my hope against all the evils of the world.

I smile as I relive the memory of our meeting here, 38 years ago. It was summer then, and I had been weary from my journeys. The Lady Galadriel had clothed me as an elf-prince, for her own reasons, though I now suspected the truth. She had known, or at least guessed, my love of Arwen, and she had helped me to seal her granddaughter's fate, as well as that of all Middle-Earth.

I beheld Arwen as she had stood, those years ago. The light of Aman was in her face, her eyes twinkling merrily. Her laughter had been the chiming of soft bells, her voice an angelic chorus.

I remembered little more of that day than a happiness that filled my entire being. Arwen and I had spoken our troths to one another that day. We were promised to each other. Arwen had chosen to forsake her immortality for our love.

That same feeling came over me now, soothing my heart and filling it with love. "Thank you," I whispered softly. "_Arwen vanimelda, namarië_!"

I took a deep breath and returned to the waking world. I would now have the strength to go on, even with the loss of Gandalf weighing on my heart.

A smile crossed my face as Frodo came down the hill toward me. He seemed hesitant to approach me; unwilling to disturb me, perhaps. My smile reassured him.

"Here is the heart of Elvendom on earth," I told him, "and here my heart dwells ever, unless there be a light beyond the dark roads that we still must tread, you and I. Come with me!"

I took Frodo by the hand and led him back to the Company.

Today I would lead the Company in their meeting with Daeradar and Daernaneth, my adopted grandparents. It was sure to be a long day.

But I knew that I would truly sleep for the first night since I had left the House of Elrond, the only home I had ever known. This place, too, was a refuge for me.

Here, I knew I would find peace.

**I'm not sure if this will be continued or not... it may depend upon how many reviews I get!**

**Please review! It's not hard and it only takes a little bit of your time. You don't even have to leave your name, honest! But it means so much to the author… especially this one. Please? Lots and lots of cyber-cookies if you do!**


	3. An Unexpected Meeting

**Hello, and welcome to college course LOTR 103, the study of parodies of Mr. John Ronald Reuel Tolkien. Today's class will be a continuation of the last two sections covered in class, A Night of Worry and In Lothlórien. The topic for the day is An Unexpected Meeting, of which the course material may be found below. Your task is to read and review the subject materials, think on them, and formulate suggestions for the author. What would you have her do from here? What advice would you tell her? Is her writing style appreciated? All suggestions are considered of merit, and this will be a completion assignment rather than content-based.**

**As this is a college assignment, you may assume that I am not, in fact, Mr. Tolkien himself. (Nor am I a professor, though it seems I can write like one! *grins wickedly*) I do not own the materials presented, although snippets of dialogue and inspiration for this "class" are taken directly from Master Tolkien.**

**Inspiration for this chapter belongs to my faithful reviewers, most especially StarLight9. Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart. You have no idea how much those reviews mean… Who am I kidding? You're all fanfic writers, too! *laughs* You know exactly how I feel! Please stay with me – and complete the "assignment"!**

**An Unexpected Meeting**

"'Tis just an old man," I hear one of them say.

"It is Saruman," another snarls in my direction. "Do not let him speak, or put a spell upon us! Shoot first!" It is strange that I can hear them so clearly, when I remain so far from them. I listen to the whispered debate, the words easily carried on the breeze for my keen ears to hear.

"What could he do?" I hear the lighter, more musical voice ask. "He looks harmless enough."

"And carries the guise of a wizard," the shortest grumbled. "I do not trust him." He turned to the one that had yet to speak. "Aragorn?"

This one looked thoughtful, as if unsure what he believed. He glanced back down at me, then traded another look with his friends high above me on the edge of the cliff. "Legolas is right. We must wait."

It was at that moment that I reached the bottom of the rock-wall. "Well met, my friends," I call to them. "I wish to speak to you. Will you come down, or shall I come up?" Understanding that the trio were not likely to give up the high ground, I started climbing without bothering to wait for an answer. Several times I saw the dwarf grasp his axe-handle, as clear a threat as had ever been given to me in this new guise.

I must say that I was of a rather short temper at this time, in my defense. No one who is accused of being an enemy by their friends is of a sound state of mind when it occurs, and I was no different. Giving the three standing before me a piercing gaze, I informed them of their own errand, since they were not inclined to engage in friendly conversation of any kind, playing the game of the Elves in avoiding an answer to a question.

I was not inclined to give them my name, you see. Rather uncharitable of me, in hindsight, but it is quite ingrained in my personality. I couldn't really expect them to recognize me when they all thought I was dead, but I did so anyway.

It really shouldn't have been a surprise that they would attack me when they first saw my white robes. They had suspected that I was Saruman, after all, and I was still keeping my name hidden from them. But it annoyed me nonetheless. Raising my staff, it was the work of a moment to throw Gimli's axe to the ground, cause Andúril to blaze with a sudden fire and make Legolas' arrow, shot high above me in more joy than all else as he recognized me at last, vanish in a flash of flame.

It was Legolas who first named me, calling "Mithrandir! Mithrandir!" for any and all to hear. Each of them stood in wonder for a time, joyful and fearful all at once. I watched the play of emotions run across their faces, amused at their bewilderment, before settling my gaze upon Aragorn.

The look in his eyes stopped me cold. There was joy in them, but a pain and deep fear that did not belong. The tasks I had given him were heavy, I knew, but I hadn't known just what they had done to my old friend. It was a shock to look into the depths of his eyes once more, to read the depth of the anguish surrounding my fall and his forced leadership of the Company, the disasters I knew had befallen them only lending more agony to a burden I had hoped he would never receive. I saw, in that glance, more of Aragorn's soul than I'd seen in nearly all the time I'd known him. It wasn't like him to show his emotions, not like this – and it was then that I knew I needed to speak with him.

It was not a talk I was looking forward to. If I knew Aragorn – and I rather think I do, after all the time I've spent with him over the years! – he was going to ask many more questions of me than I'm willing to answer. I nearly sighed, but caught myself before I let it escape. Aragorn read it in my eyes anyway, and gives me a half-smile, acknowledging both the emotion and the need for speech. But it must wait, at least until the Elf and Dwarf are not around. For my friend will not want to involve them in what I know will be somewhat traumatic, for both of us.

It never was easy, for either of us, to accept what we knew was coming. And although it looked like Aragorn had worked his way through some of the grief surrounding my fall in Moria, I knew that my reappearance had wrecked any sort of control he had regained over his emotions. This would be a long night.

"Gandalf," he said at last. "Beyond all hope you return to us in our need." I know he means it in more than one way. We really must discuss this foresight of his… but not now.

I nod in acknowledgement. The other two will not learn of this wordplay. "Yes. We meet again. At the turn of the tide."

_ Gandalf has returned. _I can hardly believe my eyes. Surely this is a dream, a nightmare, even, for I do not need tormented by this image of my fallen friend. I hear his voice often enough in my head, saying things I know he would have had he still been alive. Ai, Mithrandir, I am sorry, but you cannot be real. I have seen too many images of you, projections of my mind that I wish were truth for you to be real. You are simply another imagination of my mind.

Or perhaps, more sinister yet, you are Saruman, come to end our quest once and for all. You wear white robes, as you have shown us, just as the traitor has. But if this is so, why do you not attack us, bend us to your will, attempt to capture us, anything that I would know how to fight against? Why do you stand here before us, speaking in a friendly, if frustratingly vague, voice, when you could have overpowered us in an instant?

I know not which you are, but surely you are not the Istar I once knew. He is gone, forever, and no matter how much I wish for his return, he will never more come to my aid. It is something I have forced myself to accept, loathe though I am to admit it. My friend cannot come back. He has taken a route I know that I will not avoid, but it is one that I will not travel for many years yet – that of death. It is not a road that one can travel both ways upon. I have seen far too many die, often under my command, to believe that this is possible. It simply cannot be. You are not he, no matter if you look like him, act as he would… No. I cannot let myself believe it.

You are not here, mellon nín. And you never will be again.

And yet… something tells me that it _is_ you. And my heart shatters to pieces once more at the joy, the pure, indescribable _joy_ that overtakes every fiber of my body. I can do nothing but watch you, take in every detail as you scrutinize Legolas and Gimli before turning to me. And as I meet your eyes, I struggle to hide the tears that threaten to spill down my face. It _is_ you, Gandalf. Against all chance and hope, you are here, standing before me without a wound on you. I give you a half-smile, afraid to do more lest I lose any more control.

At last, I reign in my emotions far enough to allow for speech, attempting to hide the sudden roughness that has robbed me of my normal voice. "Gandalf," I whisper, "Beyond all hope you return to us in our need."

I can see that the wizard understands, perhaps more than I do. He gives me a nearly invisible nod. "Yes. We meet again. At the turn of the tide." I know that he has multiple meanings in those few sentences, and the tears once again threaten to show themselves. That's Gandalf, all right. He never could resist speaking in riddles whenever possible.

**Don't forget today's assignment! [See the top if you're completely confused now…]**


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